Chapter 37 #2
Emmeline looked up at him, chin resting on his chest, and cautiously, Roremar brushed his knuckles along her cheek. Traced her jawline, pressed his thumb to her bottom lip where those teeth loved to burrow and thought about how she’d shuddered against him as she fell apart.
“Come on, Huntress,” he finally whispered, placing a kiss to her forehead because it was the most he could have. “Let’s get you home.”
Emmeline wrinkled her nose but disentangled herself from him and cautiously ducked around the winged statue. “I think I’m the one getting you home given that you have to sneak into the barracks.”
“By all means, Miss DeLeoste”—he laughed softly, tiredly—“escort me.”
And as they silently crept back through the network of tunnels buried beneath the city, Roremar couldn’t help but feel that they were leaving something instrumental behind.
But he stitched a vow into his soul: He would prove to Emmeline they could be more than this.
More than hidden moments or longing looks.
He would prove to Emmeline DeLeoste how good they could be together. No matter what it took.
They stuck to the tunnel they’d originally taken, retracing their steps up to the mausoleum in silence. Roremar’s attention remained piqued for any shift or shuffle, but he didn’t even feel eyes following them.
He ensured the staircase descending to the catacombs was hidden beneath Valyrie’s fresco again, the ancient wooden doors sealed shut and brushed away any disruptions in the dirt from their footsteps and the door sweeping open.
He did everything to guarantee the structure looked as untouched as ever, triple checking before he followed Emmeline beneath the canopy of woven branches and back through the rainy graveyard.
He’d just climbed over the slippery gates, hands on Emmeline’s waist to take any excuse to touch her as she descended, when he felt it.
A shift on the wind, a cackle echoing through his memory.
Roremar spun, but assailants came from all directions, rain whipping around and morphing the blue-tinged mystlights.
Hands wrenched Emmeline from the iron fence, and a broad boot kicked him in the stomach.
He stumbled back, the metal bars ringing as he fell against them. A sharp pinch shot through his side, but he didn’t allow himself to focus on it. He shoved upright, head spinning, and threw all his body weight at his attacker.
Searing pain bloomed across his ribs, but Roremar tackled the man to the slick cobblestones and staggered back. Two masked warriors—one feminine in stature and one taller and broader than him—were dragging Emmeline toward the grapevines.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” Roremar lunged, but the piercing sting in his side had him collapsing, hands groping at a sticky mess along his ribs.
“Fucking Fates,” he grunted.
He’d been stabbed.
A small knife no bigger than his palm was lodged between his ribs, pain spiderwebbing out from it. His vision was already bleeding together.
Emmeline was struggling, fighting off her attackers. Every move was blurry.
A hand grabbed the back of his neck, shoving him to the ground. The slice to his side screamed. He rolled over, getting his weight off the wound, but a boot struck him so hard in the ribs, stars flashed in his vision. He swore something cracked.
Roremar tried to focus on the figure above him, but their hood covered most of their features. All he could make out was a symbol stitched into their sleeve, gold thread shining against the dark fabric.
Stuck on his back, energy draining, Roremar jammed his foot up and into the man’s groin. He fell with a drawn out yelp, and Roremar grinned.
He flipped onto his stomach and crawled across the cobblestones, his blood carving watery rivulets down the slope to the vineyards. Hands fumbling in puddles, he reached for anything—a fallen knife, a triple blade.
In his peripheral, he saw Emmeline wrench a dagger from beneath her skirt and jab it in the neck of the man whose arm was around her stomach.
Good fucking girl, taking out the larger opponent first.
He fell, and Roremar watched with blurred vision—grappling across the stone to get himself to his hands and knees—as Emmeline wrestled with the female.
She appeared to be half in a session, half present, as if she was reading the Fates to predict the woman’s moves before she made them. Fucking Fates better actually respond this time.
A fist landed on Emmeline’s jaw, and her head snapped to the side. Roremar felt the bruise echoing along his own flesh, but she reared back.
He kept searching, stretching his hand out.
Roremar’s fingers closed around a sharp rock, and he didn’t consider his options before he shoved to his feet. Knife in his side, he stumbled toward the man still cowering on the ground and slammed the stone into his head.
He splashed to the puddles below, likely not dead, but Roremar stood over him, panting.
Then, he toppled to the ground, too.
“Roremar!” Emmeline shouted.
He blinked his eyes open to her crouching beside him, cradling his face in her hands.
“Where’d she go?” he slurred.
“She ran.”
And Emmeline chose to help him over chasing her assailant. Foolish, but he couldn’t deny he liked it. It made his chest feel warm even as the night got darker around him.
He worked to steady his attention on her wavering form. The mystlight lamp overhead haloed her in a blue glow, rain drops clinging to her chestnut waves. Sprinkling her face. Or maybe those were tears. Or both. He couldn’t tell.
There was a split in her lip, a crimson bead forming. The heat in his chest morphed to anger.
“You’re bleeding,” he mumbled, brushing his thumb beneath it to catch the drop.
Emmeline huffed a watery laugh. “Yeah, so are you, Reckless.”
“Care more about you.”
His eyelids were heavy. Darkness beckoned. A silent darkness, he realized. One where he didn’t worry about the Fate of Chaos and Revelry controlling him.
That sounded…nice…
“Roremar?” an angelic voice called. “Roremar, stay awake. Stay with me.”
Stay with her.
That sounded nice, too.
But he wasn’t strong enough.
“Roremar!” That angelic voice was panicked now. It told him he should be panicked, too. But he didn’t have enough fight in him.
And he went under.